


House Arrest

by entanglednow



Category: White Collar
Genre: Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, F/M, M/M, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Elizabeth is the one who decides when people take time off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Arrest

When Elizabeth brings Neal coffee he's still looking far too smug. He's laid out on the bed like a prince, with the bottom half of his left leg bandaged. But he looks far too innocent to have not been up to anything while she was gone.

"Peter's going to mad if you escape again. And I'll be mad if you tear your stitches."

Neal folds his hands behind his head. "I didn't escape, I ventured out for some air. There's a world of difference."

"You ventured out of the window," she's forced to point out. Then hands him the mug she's holding.

Neal smiles far too wide and takes it.

She sits on the bed while it's still in mid-air, but Neal's far too good to spill coffee all over the place.

"I know you're restless and I know you don't like sitting still, but this is important. You got shot, Neal."

"I didn't technically get shot, it was a ricochet," he protests, and it's not the first time.

"Either way leaves you bleeding out of a hole, so forgive me if I don't argue semantics with you." Elizabeth knows when to sound stern.

"I don't like resting. I'm very bad at it," Neal says, sadly.

Elizabeth rolls her eyes.

"I think we've noticed, though if you don't, steps will be taken."

Neal raises an eyebrow and looks down, to where Elizabeth has been carefully looping a tie round his wrist and threading it through the metal of the bed head. The steam from his coffee mug floats upwards while he watches her. He leaves his eyebrow raised until Elizabeth steals the mug, sets it down on the night table. The she pulls another tie off the rack. She gives him plenty of time to pull away, or protest, or give her any indication that he objects. But all she gets is a smile and a testing tug on her handiwork once she has it looped round twice.

"I suppose this is fair?" Neal says, though he gives it another tug for good measure.

"Peter said to _make sure_ you don't go anywhere this time," Elizabeth says sternly, she's good at stern.

"This is an interesting way to accomplish that," Neal says with a nod. Though it sounds more like he's unexpectedly impressed rather than unhappy about it.

"You're very sneaky," Elizabeth tells him. Like that's something she's just this moment thought of, rather than a solid gold truth.

"So you thought you'd make absolutely sure?"

"Mmm hmm." She gives the tie she's still holding a testing little tug.

"Am I allowed to at least finish my coffee?" Neal gestures with his head, curl of hair falling into his eye. Elizabeth can't resist stroking it back where it belongs, while he follows the movement with amused eyes.

"No," she tells him. Though she's aware that they're both smiling now. She may need a little more practice convincing Neal to do as he's told. But she's more than willing to put the effort in.

"Peter's going to be mad that you wrinkled all of his ties," Neal says, But Elizabeth's fairly sure he's only faking half of that seriousness. She doesn't know whether to be amused at his being wounded on their behalf or whether to roll her eyes.

He tilts his head back, all pale stretch of throat and intrigued noises. She assumes he's getting a good look at her knot work. She's under no impression that it he couldn’t get out of it if he wanted to. She hopes he doesn't.

"Is it too tight?" she asks. Neal's wrist is impossibly smooth under her fingers, sliding gently back and forth through the silk.

"No, in fact, I could slip out of there." There's that smile again, the one that says he thinks he's already won.

"Oh you could, could you?"

Neal's smiling like he's daring her. Elizabeth finds another tie and loops it around the bend of his elbow, before pulling both ends through the metal and securing them to the frame. She will admit that she finds the way the material digs tight into the pale curve of Neal's bicep fascinating.

"That's still not very tight."

She gets the distinct impression he's just teasing her now.

"I don't want to hold you permanently," she says carefully.

"No?"

"No, I just want to encourage you to stay there while I think about what I'm going to do with you."

"That seems an acceptable reason to stay tied up," Neal decides. "Carry on."

Elizabeth drags her fingers through the rack, finds another ugly tie. One that she's always found just a little disturbing if she stares at it too long. Neal's right, at least, in that Peter probably will be briefly annoyed at all the tie wrinkling. But sometimes you make sacrifices.

She moves round far enough to do the same to the other elbow and Neal makes a curious, amused sound into her hair. She very carefully ignores him to finish what she's doing, moving the glass of water and the hairbrush from the night table.

He takes advantage of her inattention to test the tension against the skin of his arm. Leaning the other way to tug at the other.

"No wriggling."

The moment his hips twist far enough she brings her arm down.

The hairbrush she's holding makes a surprisingly satisfying noise when it hits.

She thinks, immediately, about apologising, but Neal makes a noise in his throat that sounds somewhere over the edge of shameless and then he very carefully but pointedly settles back down again.

She's going to remember that.

"Wanton disobedience will not be tolerated," she decides on a whim.

Neal makes another noise and Elizabeth can't help herself. She lowers the brush again, delicate points against Neal's skin and she can feel the rock of it. She leaves it light enough that it doesn’t dig in. When she moves it the drag of plastic spines leave bare pink lines in their wake, and Neal inhales when they prickle over his ribs, down the curve of his abdomen, catching with tiny rasps in the silk of his pants.

She doesn't stop, even when she hears feet on the stairs. Neal's breathing faster now, skin shifting, like it can't decide whether to press closer or lean away. The feet reach the door and stop there, briefly, before coming forward more slowly.

Neal twists his wrists, more of a test again than any genuine desire to get away. But the ties round his elbows still leave him settled against the cold metal and the soft pillows.

Neal's very still but there's a softness to his mouth.

"A little help here," he asks eventually, in a way he thinks probably sounds suggestive.

But when she looks up, Peter's looking at her from just inside the doorway and Elizabeth knows that expression well enough that she doesn't have to say anything. The raised eyebrow that goes with it she knows even better.

"I was being proactive." Elizabeth nods and pointedly doesn't mention the now half-bare tie rack.

"You definitely were," Peter agrees.

"He hasn't escaped yet," she offers. Because in that way this counts as a complete success and an incentive, maybe.

Peter's fighting a smile now.

"I can see that."

He drops his coat by the door and then settles on the edge of the bed.

Neal scowls a little at the jostling. Elizabeth suspects Peter did that just to watch all the material pull tight where she's tied it.

"Are you going to help?" Neal asks.

"Yes," Peter says without hesitation, then shifts up until he has his knees under him.

Instead of finding the tight wraps of silk, Peter's hands catch in the waist of Neal's pajama pants and close tight.

Neal's mouth opens, and there's a noise, soft and deep in his throat, like the drag of material is the very last thing he expects.

"Hips," Peter says, voice low. Neal obeys without question. Elizabeth doesn't even think he realises.

Elizabeth can't resist following the movement with her eyes, silk sliding all the way down, and Neal's not wearing anything underneath. It's the sort of scandalous that's impossible to look away from.

Though Neal quite obviously doesn’t object to any of it.

He far from objects.

The material goes down his legs easily, Peter catching him behind the knee so his injured leg doesn't fall too fast.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves, taking advantage of me while I'm injured." Neal's voice is a shamelessly fake sort of affronted.

"Didn't you climb over a wall while injured the other day." Peter's voice is that extra deep flavour of rough that Elizabeth likes best.

"There is no physical proof of me doing that."

"I saw you do that," Peter reminds him, and his hands are slipping under Neal's thighs and pulling in a way that makes every tie dig in and hold him exactly where he is.

"I might have done that," Neal offers reluctantly and a little breathlessly.

Elizabeth can't help the noise she makes. Peter turns to look at her, and his expression is still just a little surprised, every time.

"I definitely approve of this method of distraction," Peter tells her.

"It seems a little unfair." Neal's now doing a fantastic job of sounding sensible, even though his thighs are twitching and shifting under the push of Peter's hands.

Peter stretches up just far enough to test the tension on the knots for himself. "Well then, we'll just have to hold your attention."


End file.
